


You're All I Want for Mahalmerag

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Begging, Bonding, Brotherly Affection, Christmas Fluff, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Mush, Gift Giving, King Thorin, Multi, Secret Santa, Stockings, Team as Family, Traditions, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And if all my dreams come true, then I'll wake up on Christmas (<em>Mahalmerag!<em>) mornin' and find my stocking filled with you"...</em></em></p><p>Fíli, Kíli, and Ori find out about stocking stuffers and naturally think they're a great idea. Thorin and Dori might be just as enthusiastic as the boys, but at the moment they don't want their homes set on fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're All I Want for Mahalmerag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosa_Cotton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosa_Cotton/gifts), [kili99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kili99/gifts), [Daughter_of_the_Mountains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Mountains/gifts), [in_a_blog_in_the_ground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/gifts), [ImGaladriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImGaladriel/gifts).



> My Christmas gift to all of you! :D

“I’m just saying it would be fun and interesting,” Fíli insisted, elbowing Kíli and Ori, who were on either side of him, together studying a pile of their laundry.

“It’s a little bit strange though,” Ori reminded him, wrinkling his small nose. “What if they’re gross and dirty? Who would want to go near them then?”

Kíli frowned. “It’s not like we’ve used all of them up; we’ve got Thorin and Dori! There’s no chance they would let us go without.”

“Without what?” someone asked from behind. The trio startled and turned almost in sync to find Bofur and Bombur, the former taking a draw on his pipe and the latter sipping a sweet-smelling drink.

“Stockings,” Kíli answered, making Fíli wince.

“You shouldn’t tell them, Kee! They’re not interested in things like that!”

“What’re ye talkin’ about?” Bofur asked patiently. “I’d like t’ hear.”

Kíli shifted, now reluctant to speak because of his brother’s admonishing. Ori at last cleared his throat. “Well, see, the Menfolk have a small tradition around this time of the year…”

“Aye, I’ve heard they celebrate Mahalmerag as we do,” Bombur prompted.

“Not necessarily like we do,” Ori argued. “See, they have a tradition with their stockings. They take one stocking from a member of the family and hang it above their fireplace!” Ori’s eyes shone conspiratorially as he dropped his voice lower. “And then…when Yule’s Day comes…”

“The stocking is stuffed to the brim with gifts!” Fíli blurted, making Ori frown.

“I was going to say it! Why’d you interrupt?”

Bofur looked upon the following argument with a knowing smirk. Laughing softly, he turned and made his way off, following closely by Bombur.

“What d’ye thinks o’ that, Bommy? A stockin’—just _one_ , not th’ pair!—hung where it could catch fire an’ easily burn down those silly Menfolk’s wooden homes, just so they can split th’ stitches on their one sock with gifts!”

“I know!” Bombur chuckled, shaking his head. “Isn’t it a _lovely_ idea? Why haven’t we ever thought of that?”

Bofur coughed out the pipe smoke he had inhaled and sputtered, “What? _What_?”

“I said it’s a lovely idea,” Bombur repeated happily. “In fact, Bofur, I’ll see you later. I’m going to tell Daloa about this right now! I just know she’ll want to do it for the little ones!” With a brief but cozy hug of parting, Bombur waddled happily off to broach the subject with his wife.

Bofur watched his little brother fade into the distance, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

*****

“I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea!” Nori finished explaining what Ori had told him.

Dori huffed and crossed his arms. “I see no reason why you think so.”

Nori was frankly stunned. He had expected his older brother to light up and start running around, preparing a perfect stocking arrangement for Ori. “B-But it’s exactly the type of crafty thing you like to do!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong? Why’re you bein’ a sod?”

“Because Bofur came to me just before you did and explained exactly how dangerous it could be!” Dori’s ill-tempered frown became even deeper. “It could set our home on fire, Nori!”

Nori hadn’t thought he could be any more surprised, but he was proving himself wrong. “You _can’t_ be talkin’ about Bofur Broadbeam, _my_ Bofur Broadbeam, best mate of mine since he helped me escape from Dwalin in the marketplace? I don’t think he knows the meanin’ of the word ‘sod’! Of all people, _he_ should be the one runnin’ the gig for the entire Company!”

“Well, perhaps you don’t know your best friend as well as you thought,” Dori refuted his protests.

Nori could only stand slack-jawed for a few moments before stepping closer and pleading in a softer voice, one he only used for Dori for a very particular subject. “He’s our little bruv, Dori. He’s only gonna be little for so much longer and he really likes this idea. Couldja just put a bucket of water by the fireplace and go for it?”

Dori’s scowl softened a little, but he still shook his head. “I’m quite busy, Nori. If you want to do this stocking-stuffing idea, you can go ahead.”

Nori sighed exasperatedly and shrugged, pivoting and heading for the door while making a mental list of what Ori might like.

*****

“Óin, Glóin, I need your help,” Thorin admitted, a hint of a sheepishness in the shrug of his shoulders. “Nori has told me about this tradition of the Menfolk—”

“Yes, Bombur told us,” Glóin agreed. “I plan on making a stocking for my wee lad, Gimli.”

Thorin tried to smile, but it looked a bit ill, so Óin stepped closer and reached to put a hand on his forehead. “What’s wrong, Thorin?” he questioned, studying their King closely. “You don’t look well.”

“Just a headache, cousin. For the last few hours Fíli and Kíli have made it their sole purpose to beg me for a passing of a ‘Mahalmerag stocking law’,” Thorin mumbled glumly, making Óin wince at the obviously quoted phrase. “And then Nori of all people came to me. He told me he was going to make a stocking for Ori and I voiced my concerns.”

“If I know Nori, he had a smart remark?” Glóin tried.

“Indeed,” Thorin agreed, his tone becoming sharper. “He said that I could refuse the lads’ request, but it would make them the only members of the Company to be neglected on Yule Day. That word exactly, _neglected_! Fíli and Kíli know that on my life I would never neglect them on a blessed day, don’t they?”

“I’m sure they do,” Óin reassured him, pausing a moment before adding, “Of course, they will feel rather left out, what with Gimli and Ori receiving _their_ stockings.”

Thorin glowered at the reminder, asking through clenched jaw, “Did the portents tell you such things?”

“So,” Glóin cut in quickly. “What did you need our help with?”

“Well, I can’t seem to find Balin, so I want Glóin’s advice on what I could get them,” Thorin explained. “And I want you, Óin, to make rounds to each of the Company homes tonight. You’re the fire-maker of the Company and I want to be sure everyone is safe.”

“No wonder he can’t find Balin; he’s hiding so he won’t be the one making the rounds,” Óin muttered to Glóin as Thorin strode majestically away to fret.

“Well, unfortunately he succeeded. Sorry, brother,” Glóin whispered back as he shuffled after Thorin.

*****

The Company awoke and gathered the next morning in Thorin’s large chamber, stockings held close at hand. The King studied the group thoughtfully.

“I suppose we must go from top to bottom, mustn’t we?” he clarified, retrieving a red and gold stocking and a blue and silver stocking. “Fíli, Kíli, here you are.”

The Durin Heirs leapt up, snatching their socks from him excitedly and pushing their hands inside. They rummaged around a bit, partially wanting to take their time to relish in the tradition they had prompted and partially wanting to hurry and find their reward.

Fíli found his first, pulling out a nicely-weighted but delicately carved wooden pipe. “Oh, Uncle!” he gasped, rubbing his thumb over the burnished wood. “It’s lovely! You knew, didn’t you? You _knew_ I’d lost my pipe when we were traveling to Laketown—b-but I never said anything!”

Thorin’s small smile broadened. “A prince ought not to go anywhere without a pipe. That at least is a birthright.” He glanced at his younger nephew and his smile vanished in an instant. “Kíli?”

Kíli’s head hung low, his hair hiding his face as he stared down into his lap, where his hands held his gift.

“Kee, are you okay?” Fíli asked in concern, rubbing his brother’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m fine,” came the mumbled response, thick with emotion.

Bofur, crawling over on hands and knees, patted Kíli’s other shoulder and prompted, “What’d he give ye, laddie?”

Sniffing slightly, Kíli lifted his head and opened his palm. “It’s…a runestone. Like the one I gave to Tauriel,” he announced at last, causing everyone to murmur in understanding. “Thank you, Uncle,” he added, smiling slightly through his tears at Thorin, who nodded solemnly.

After a few seconds passed, Nori broke the silence. “Here now, let Ori open his.”

Ori perked up as Nori handed him his woolen brown stocking. With a bit less reckless abandon than his best friends, he peered inside and cried out, almost sounding girlish in his glee.

“What?” several voices asked at once.

“It’s a tea infuser!” Ori exclaimed, looping an arm around Nori’s neck in a sideways hug.

“Not just any ol’ one, either. Pull it out!” Nori urged. There were chuckles around the circle when Ori pulled out the infuser, his eyes going wide when he found it was shaped like a short sword.

“I know you prefer a slingshot in battle, but that kind was sold out. Of course, this’ll stay anythin’ that tries interrupting your afternoon cup,” Nori joked. He startled when a pale blue stocking fell into his lap. “Oi!”

“That’ll stay a few things too,” Dori announced, his voice grudging but affectionate.

Nori blinked a few times before reaching in and withdrawing a double-bladed knife. He wolf-whistled his appreciation and then smirked up at his older brother.

“Well, cor. It’s great, Dori, thanks.”

“You’re…welcome,” Dori returned, sounding surprised but pleased to be thanked by his complicated middle sibling.

Everyone looked expectantly at the Broadbeams, but Bofur simply hunched his shoulders and flushed, admitting, “We, ah, we were so busy makin’ stockings fer Bom’s little ones that we kinda missed each other.”

“That’s alright,” Thorin said courteously. “Next year, then.” Leaning back against the table at his back, he paused, reaching behind him and grasping a simple green sock, surprisingly lumpy. “Whose is this?”

The Company stared at the sock as though it were just that. There was no recognition in anyone’s face that Thorin could see, so he suggested, “Shall I open it?”

“But what if it’s for you?” Kíli asked.

“Then just as well!”

“But what if it’s _not_ for you? It might be ruined for the other person if you open it!”

Shaking his head, Thorin slid the stocking back onto the table and tried to ignore it. “Very well, then. Let’s continue with our further-standing traditions!”

Ale was poured all around and stories were swapped, along with precious memories from their long Quest, marked with laughter and tears alike. Bilbo was a popular subject—each gave their own speculations on how he might be and when they might get a chance to visit. The hours passed far faster than they expected and before they knew it midnight had come and gone.

Eventually Thorin was forced to order his close friends to bed. He had tried to sleep while the others chatted and found it completely impossible. He had again become used to being alone in a silent room instead of squished on the ground among the talkative others.

When the group had finally filed out, Thorin went for his bed. Peeling back his blanket, Thorin glanced around the room and his eyebrows shot up in disbelief. The lone green stocking had vanished! Whirling back toward the door, Thorin demanded, “Who’s taken it?!” But no one was there to answer.

*****

“So you recognized it.”

“How couldn’t I? It’s _my_ stocking.”

A soft laugh. “You have so many. It was rather hard to find one I knew you could identify. Come here and say goodnight.”

“You aren’t going to stay and watch me open it?”

“No, I’d rather give you privacy.”

“Oh, it’s one of _those_ gifts, is it?”

“Aye. I fear you might end up bright-eyed as Kíli was.”

A disbelieving huff. “You underestimate my strength of will, then.”

Another laugh. “Oh, stop pretending for me. I know you better than anyone else. You can open it as soon as I’m gone, alright?”

“Why are you so anxious to leave?”

“There are two ways you’ll respond to my gift: you’ll either end up tackling me in a hug that will break my bones or you’ll end up blubbering all over me. I don’t want to be present for either.”

“Sourpuss.”

“Goodnight, little brother.”

“You’re one to talk.”

A tender smile and muted footsteps toward the door. Dwalin watched his brother go with a matching grin and then lowered his eyes to the stocking in his lap, slowly turning it over in his hands so he could peer inside.


End file.
